always a favourite amongst the elderly ladies, becauseI never rebelled against seniority, nor could becharged with thinking myself wise before my time;but heard every opinion with submissive silence,professed myself ready to learn from all who seemedinclined to teach me, paid the same grateful acknowledgementsfor precepts contradictory to each other,and if any controversy arose, was careful to side withher who presided in the company.

Of this compliance I very early found the advantage;for my aunt Matilda left me a very large additionto my fortune, for this reason chiefly, as sheherself declared, because I was not above hearinggood counsel, but would sit from morning till nightto be instructed, while my sister Sukey, who was ayear younger than myself, and was, therefore, ingreater want of information, was so much conceitedof her own knowledge, that whenever the good ladyin the ardour of benevolence reproved or instructedher, she would pout or titter, interrupt her withquestions, or embarrass her with objections.

I had no design to supplant my sister by thiscomplaisant attention; nor, when the consequence of myobsequiousness came to be known, did Sukey somuch envy as despise me: I was, however, very wellpleased with my success; and having received, fromthe concurrent opinion of all mankind, a notion thatto be rich was to be great and happy, I thought I hadobtained my advantages at an easy rate, and resolvedto continue the same passive attention, since I foundmyself so powerfully recommended by it to kindnessand esteem.

The desire of advising has a very extensiveprevalence; and since advice cannot be given but to thosethat will hear it, a patient listener is necessary to theaccommodation of all those who desire to be confirmedin the opinion of their own wisdom: a patientlistener, however, is not always to be had; the presentage, whatever age is present, is so vitiated anddisordered that young people are readier to talk thanto attend, and good counsel is only thrown awayupon those who are full of their own perfections.

I was, therefore, in this scarcity of good sense, ageneral favourite; and seldom saw a day in whichsome sober matron did not invite me to her house,or take me out in her chariot, for the sake of instructingme how to keep my character in this censoriousage, how to conduct myself in the time of courtship,how to stipulate for a settlement, how to manage ahusband of every character, regulate my family, andeducate my children.

We are all naturally credulous in our own favour. Having been so often caressed and applauded fordocility, I was willing to believe myself reallyenlightened by instruction, and completely qualified for thetask of life. I did not doubt but I was entering theworld with a mind furnished against all exigencies,with expedients to extricate myself from everydifficulty, and sagacity to provide against every danger;I was, therefore, in haste to give some specimen ofmy prudence, and to show that this liberality ofinstruction had not been idly lavished upon a mindincapable of improvement.

My purpose, for why should I deny it? was likethat of other women, to obtain a husband of rankand fortune superior to my own; and in this I hadthe concurrence of all those that had assumed theprovince of directing me. That the woman wasundone who married below herself, was universallyagreed: and though some ventured to assert, thatthe richer man ought invariably to be preferred, andthat money was a sufficient compensation for adefective ancestry; yet the majority declared warmlyfor a gentleman, and were of opinion that upstartsshould not be encouraged.

With regard to other qualifications I had anirreconcilable variety of instructions. I was sometimestold that deformity was no defect in a man; andthat he who was not encouraged to intrigue by anopinion of his person, was more likely to value thetenderness of his wife: but a grave widow directedme to choose a man who might imagine himselfagreeable to me, for that the deformed were alwaysinsupportably vigilant, and apt to sink into sullenness,or burst into rage, if they found their wife'seye wandering for a moment to a good face or ahandsome shape.

They were, however, all unanimous in warningme, with repeated cautions, against all thoughts ofunion with a wit, as a being with whom no happinesscould possibly be enjoyed: men of every otherkind I was taught to govern, but a wit was ananimal for whom no arts of taming had been yetdiscovered: the woman whom he could once get withinhis power, was considered as lost to all hope ofdominion or of quiet: for he would detect artifice anddefeat allurement; and if once he discovered anyfailure of conduct, would believe his own eyes, indefiance of tears, caresses, and protestations.

In pursuance of these sage principles, I proceededto form my schemes; and while I was yet in thefirst bloom of youth, was taken out at an assemblyby Mr. Frisk. I am afraid my cheeks glowed, andmy eyes sparkled; for I observed the looks of allmy superintendants fixed anxiously upon me; andI was next day cautioned against him from all hands,as a man of the most dangerous and formidable kind,who had writ verses to one lady, and then forsakenher only because she could not read them, and hadlampooned another for no other fault than defaminghis sister.

Having been hitherto accustomed to obey, Iventured to dismiss Mr. Frisk, who happily did notthink me worth the labour of a lampoon. I was thenaddressed by Mr. Sturdy, and congratulated by allmy friends on the manors of which I was shortlyto be lady: but Sturdy's conversation was so gross,that after the third visit I could endure him nolonger; and incurred, by dismissing him, the censureof all my friends, who declared that my nicetywas greater than my prudence, and that they fearedit would be my fate at last to be wretched with a wit.

By a wit, however, I was never afterwardsattacked, but lovers of every other class, or pretendedlovers, I have often had; and, notwithstanding theadvice constantly given me, to have no regard inmy choice to my own inclinations, I could notforbear to discard some for vice, and some forrudeness. I was once loudly censured for refusing an oldgentleman who offered an enormous jointure, anddied of the phthisic a year after; and was so baitedwith incessant importunities, that I should havegiven my hand to Drone the stock-jobber, had notthe reduction of interest made him afraid of theexpenses of matrimony.

Some, indeed, I was permitted to encourage; butmiscarried of the main end, by treating them accordingto the rules of art which had been prescribedme. Altilis, an old maid, infused into me somuch haughtiness and reserve, that some of mylovers withdrew themselves from my frown, andreturned no more; others were driven away, by thedemands of settlement which the widow Traplanddirected me to make; and I have learned, by manyexperiments, that to ask advice is to lose opportunity.

I am, Sir,

Your humble servant,

PERDITA.

No. 81. TUESDAY, AUGUST 14, 1753

Nil desperandum. HOR. Lib. i. Od. vii. 27.

Avaunt despair!

I HAVE sometimes heard it disputed in conversation,whether it be more laudable or desirable,that a man should think too highly or too meanlyof himself: it is on all hands agreed to be best, thathe should think rightly; but since a fallible beingwill always make some deviations from exact rectitude,it is not wholly useless to inquire towardswhich side it is safer to decline.

The prejudices of mankind seem to favour himwho errs by under-rating his own powers: he is consideredas a modest and harmless member of society,not likely to break the peace by competition, toendeavour after such splendour of reputation as maydim the lustre of others, or to interrupt any in theenjoyment of themselves; he is no man's rival, and,therefore, may be every man's friend.

The opinion which a man entertains of himselfought to be distinguished, in order to an accuratediscussion of this question, as it relates to personsor to things. To think highly of ourselves incomparison with others, to assume by our own authoritythat precedence which none is willing to grant, mustbe always invidious and offensive; but to rate ourpowers high in proportion to things, and imagineourselves equal to great undertakings, while we leaveothers in possession of the same abilities, cannotwith equal justice provoke censure.

It must be confessed, that self-love may disposeus to decide too hastily in our own favour: but who ishurt by the mistake? If we are incited by this vainopinion to attempt more than we can perform, oursis the labour, and ours is the disgrace.

But he that dares to think well of himself, willnot always prove to be mistaken; and the goodeffects of his confidence will then appear in greatattempts and great performances: if he should notfully complete his design, he will at least advanceit so far as to leave an easier task for him thatsucceeds him; and even though he should wholly fail,he will fail with honour.

But from the opposite errour, from torpiddespondency, can come no advantage; it is the frost ofthe soul, which binds up all its powers, and congealslife in perpetual sterility. He that has no hopes ofsuccess, will make no attempts; and where nothingis attempted, nothing can be done.

Every man should, therefore, endeavour tomaintain in himself a favourable opinion of the powersof the human mind; which are, perhaps, in everyman, greater than they appear, and might, by diligentcultivation, be exalted to a degree beyondwhat their possessor presumes to believe. There isscarce any man but has found himself able, at theinstigation of necessity, to do what in a state ofleisure and deliberation he would have concludedimpossible; and some of our species have signalizedthemselves by such achievements, as prove thatthere are few things above human hope.

It has been the policy of all nations to preserve,by some public monuments, the memory of thosewho have served their country by great exploits:there is the same reason for continuing or revivingthe names of those, whose extensive abilities havedignified humanity. An honest emulation may bealike excited; and the philosopher's curiosity maybe inflamed by a catalogue of the works of Boyleor Bacon, as Themistocles was kept awake by thetrophies of Miltiades.

Among the favourites of nature that have fromtime to time appeared in the world, enriched withvarious endowments and contrarieties of excellence,none seems to have been exalted above the commonrate of humanity, than the man known about twocenturies ago by the appellation of the AdmirableCrichton; of whose history, whatever we may suppressas surpassing credibility, yet we shall, uponincontestable authority, relate enough to rank himamong prodigies.

"Virtue," says Virgil, "is better accepted whenit comes in a pleasing form:" the person of Crichtonwas eminently beautiful; but his beauty wasconsistent with such activity and strength, thatin fencing he would spring at one bound thelength of twenty feet upon his antagonist; and heused the sword in either hand with such force anddexterity, that scarce any one had courage to engage him.

Having studied at St. Andrews in Scotland, hewent to Paris in his twenty-first year, and affixed onthe gate of the college of Navarre a kind of challengeto the learned of that university to dispute with himon a certain day: offering to his opponents, whoeverthey should be, the choice of ten languages, and ofall faculties and sciences. On the day appointed threethousand auditors assembled, when four doctors ofthe church and fifty masters appeared against him;and one of his antagonists confesses, that the doctorswere defeated; that he gave proofs of knowledgeabove the reach of man; and that a hundred yearspassed without food or sleep, would not be sufficientfor the attainment of his learning. After a disputationof nine hours, he was presented by the presidentand professors with a diamond and a purse of gold,and dismissed with repeated acclamations.

From Paris he went away to Rome, where he madethe same challenge, and had in the presence of thepope and cardinals the same success. Afterwards hecontracted at Venice an acquaintance with AldusManutius, by whom he was introduced to the learnedof that city: then visited Padua, where he engagedin another publick disputation, beginning hisperformance with an extemporal poem in praise of thecity and the assembly then present, and concludingwith an oration equally unpremeditated in commendationof ignorance.

He afterwards published another challenge, inwhich he declared himself ready to detect the erroursof Aristotle and all his commentators, eitherin the common forms of logick, or in any which hisantagonists should propose of a hundred differentkinds of verse.

These acquisitions of learning, howeverstupendous, were not gained at the expense of any pleasurewhich youth generally indulges, or by the omissionof any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentlemanto excel: he practised in great perfection thearts of drawing and painting, he was an eminentperformer in both vocal and instrumental musick, hedanced with uncommon gracefulness, and, on the dayafter his disputation at Paris, exhibited his skill inhorsemanship before the court of France, where at apublick match of tilting, he bore away the ring uponhis lance fifteen times together.

He excelled likewise in domestic games of lessdignity and reputation: and in the interval betweenhis challenge and disputation at Paris, he spent somuch of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that alampoon was fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne,directing those that would see this monster oferudition, to look for him at the tavern.

So extensive was his acquaintance with life andmanners, that in an Italian comedy composed byhimself, and exhibited before the court of Mantua,he is said to have personated fifteen differentcharacters; in all which he might succeed without greatdifficulty, since he had such power of retention, thatonce hearing an oration of an hour, he would repeatit exactly, and in the recital follow the speakerthrough all his variety of tone and gesticulation.

Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, orhis courage inferior to his skill: there was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who travelling about the world,according to the barbarous custom of that age, as ageneral challenger, had defeated the most celebratedmasters in many parts of Europe; and in Mantua,where he then resided, had killed three that appearedagainst him. The duke repented that he had grantedhim his protection; when Crichton, looking on hissanguinary success with indignation, offered to stakefifteen hundred pistoles, and mount the stage againsthim. The duke with some reluctance consented, andon the day fixed the combatants appeared: theirweapon seems to have been single rapier, which wasthen newly introduced in Italy. The prize-fighteradvanced with great violence and fierceness, andCrichton contended himself calmly to ward hispasses, and suffered him to exhaust his vigour byhis own fury. Crichton then became the assailant;and pressed upon him with such force and agility,that he thrust him thrice through the body, andsaw him expire: he then divided the prize he hadwon among the widows whose husbands had beenkilled.

The death of this wonderful man I should bewilling to conceal, did I not know that every readerwill inquire curiously after that fatal hour, which iscommon to all human beings, however distinguishedfrom each other by nature or by fortune.

The duke of Mantua, having received so manyproofs of his various merit, made him tutor to hisson Vicentio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose mannersand turbulent disposition. On this occasion it was,that he composed the comedy in which he exhibitedso many different characters with exact propriety. But his honour was of short continuance; foras he was one night in the time of Carnivalrambling about the streets, with his guitar in his hand,he was attacked by six men masked. Neither hiscourage nor skill in his exigence deserted him: heopposed them with such activity and spirit, thathe soon dispersed them, and disarmed their leader,who throwing off his mask, discovered himself tobe the prince his pupil. Crichton, falling on his knees,took his own sword by the point, and presented it tothe prince; who immediately seized it, and instigated,as some say, by jealousy, according to others,only by drunken fury and brutal resentment, thrusthim through the heart.

Thus was the Admirable Crichton brought intothat state, in which he could excel the meanest ofmankind only by a few empty honours paid to hismemory: the court of Mantua testified their esteemby a publick mourning, the contemporary wits wereprofuse of their encomiums, and the palaces of Italywere adorned with pictures, representing him onhorseback with a lance in one hand and a bookin the other[i].

[i] This paper is enumerated by Chalmers among those whichJohnson dictated, not to Bathurst, but to Hawkesworth. It is anelegant summary of Crichton's life which is in Mackenzie'sWriters of the Scotch Nation. See a fuller account by the Earlof Buchan and Dr. Kippis in the Biog. Brit. and the recentlypublished one by Mr. Frazer Tytler.

But take the danger and the shame away, And vagrant nature bounds upon her prey. FRANCIS.

TO THE ADVENTURER.

SIR,

IT has been observed, I think, by Sir WilliamTemple, and after him by almost every otherwriter, that England affords a greater variety ofcharacters than the rest of the world. This isascribed to the liberty prevailing amongst us, whichgives every man the privilege of being wise orfoolish his own way, and preserves him from thenecessity of hypocrisy or the servility of imitation.That the position itself is true, I am notcompletely satisfied. To be nearly acquainted with thepeople of different countries can happen to very few;and in life, as in every thing else beheld at adistance, there appears an even uniformity: the pettydiscriminations which diversify the natural character,are not discoverable but by a close inspection;we, therefore, find them most at home, because therewe have most opportunities of remarking them. Much less am I convinced, that this peculiardiversification, if it be real, is the consequence ofpeculiar liberty; for where is the government to be foundthat superintends individuals with so much vigilance,as not to leave their private conduct withoutrestraint? Can it enter into a reasonable mind toimagine, that men of every other nation are not equallymasters of their own time or houses with ourselves,and equally at liberty to be parsimonious or profuse,frolick or sullen, abstinent or luxurious? Liberty iscertainly necessary to the full play of predominanthumours; but such liberty is to be found alike underthe government of the many or the few, inmonarchies or commonwealths.

How readily the predominant passion snatches aninterval of liberty, and how fast it expands itselfwhen the weight of restraint is taken away, I hadlately an opportunity to discover, as I took a journeyinto the country in a stage-coach; which, as everyjourney is a kind of adventure, may be very properlyrelated to you, though I can display no suchextraordinary assembly as Cervantes has collectedat Don Quixote's inn[j].

[j] Johnson has made impressive allusion to the immortalwork of Cervantes in his Second Rambler. Every reflecting manmust arise from its perusal with feelings of the deepestmelancholy, with the most tender commiseration for the weaknessand lot of humanity. To such a man its moral must ever be"profoundly sad." Vulgar minds cannot know it. Hence it hasever been the favorite with the intellectual class, while GilBlas has more generally won the applause of men of the world. Anamusing anecdote of the almost universal admiration for the chefd 'oeuvre of Le Sage may be found in Butler's Reminiscences. That bigotted, yet extraordinary man, Alva, predicted, withprophetic precision, the effects which the satire on Chivalrywould produce in Spain. See Broad Stone of Honour, or Rules forthe Gentlemen of England.

In a stage coach, the passengers are for the mostpart wholly unknown to one another, and withoutexpectation of ever meeting again when theirjourney is at an end; one should thereforeimagine, that it was of little importance to any ofthem, what conjectures the rest should form concerninghim. Yet so it is, that as all think themselvessecure from detection, all assume that character ofwhich they are most desirous, and on no occasion isthe general ambition of superiority more apparentlyindulged.

On the day of our departure, in the twilight ofthe morning, I ascended the vehicle with three menand two women, my fellow travellers. It was easyto observe the affected elevation of mien with whichevery one entered, and the supercilious servility withwhich they paid their compliments to each other. When the first ceremony was despatched, we satsilent for a long time, all employed in collectingimportance into our faces, and endeavouring to strikereverence and submission into our companions.

It is always observable that silence propagatesitself, and that the longer talk has been suspended, themore difficult it is to find any thing to say. We begannow to wish for conversation; but no one seemedinclined to descend from his dignity, or first proposea topick of discourse. At last a corpulent gentleman,who had equipped himself for this expedition witha scarlet surtout and a large hat with a broad lace,drew out his watch, looked on it in silence, and thenheld it dangling at his finger. This was, I suppose,understood by all the company as an invitation toask the time of the day, but nobody appeared toheed his overture; and his desire to be talking so farovercame his resentment, that he let us know of hisown accord it was past five, and that in two hourswe should be at breakfast.

His condescension was thrown away: we continuedall obdurate; the ladies held up their heads; Iamused myself with watching their behaviour; andof the other two, one seemed to employ himself incounting the trees as we drove by them, the otherdrew his hat over his eyes, and counterfeited aslumber. The man of benevolence, to shew that he wasnot depressed by our neglect, hummed a tune, andbeat time upon his snuff-box.

Thus universally displeased with one another, andnot much delighted with ourselves, we came at lastto the little inn appointed for our repast; and all beganat once to recompense themselves for the constraintof silence, by innumerable questions andorders to the people that attended us. At last, whatevery one had called for was got, or declaredimpossible to be got at that time, and we were persuadedto sit round the same table; when the gentleman inthe red surtout looked again upon his watch, told usthat we had half an hour to spare, but he was sorryto see so little merriment among us; that all fellowtravellers were for the time upon the level, and thatit was always his way to make himself one of thecompany. "I remember," says he, "it was on justsuch a morning as this, that I and my Lord Mumbleand the Duke of Tenterden were out upon a ramble:we called at a little house as it might be this; andmy landlady, I warrant you, not suspecting to whomshe was talking, was so jocular and facetious, andmade so many merry answers to our questions, thatwe were all ready to burst with laughter. At last thegood woman happening to overhear me whisper theduke and call him by his title, was so surprised andconfounded, that we could scarcely get a word fromher; and the duke never met me from that day tothis, but he talks of the little house, and quarrelswith me for terrifying the landlady."

He had scarcely time to congratulate himself onthe veneration which this narrative must haveprocured for him from the company, when one of theladies having reached out for a plate on a distant partof the table, began to remark, "the inconveniencesof travelling, and the difficulty which they who neversat at home without a great number of attendants,found in performing for themselves such offices asthe road required; but that people of quality oftentravelled in disguise, and might be generally knownfrom the vulgar by their condescension to poor inn-keepers, and the allowance which they made for anydefect in their entertainment; that for her part,while people were civil and meant well, it was neverher custom to find fault, for one was not to expectupon a journey all that one enjoyed at one's ownhouse."

A general emulation seemed now to be excited. One of the men who had hitherto said nothing, calledfor the last newspaper; and having perused it a whilewith deep pensiveness, "It is impossible," says he,"for any man to guess how to act with regard tothe stocks; last week it was the general opinion thatthey would fall; and I sold out twenty thousandpounds in order to a purchase: they have now risenunexpectedly; and I make no doubt but at myreturn to London I shall risk thirty thousand poundsamong them again."

A young man, who had hitherto distinguishedhimself only by the vivacity of his looks, and a frequentdiversion of his eyes from one object to another,upon this closed his snuff-box, and told us that "hehad a hundred times talked with the chancellor andthe judges on the subject of the stocks; that for hispart he did not pretend to be well acquainted withthe principles on which they were established, buthad always heard them reckoned pernicious to trade,uncertain in their produce, and unsolid in their foundation;and that he had been advised by three judges,his most intimate friends, never to venture his moneyin the funds, but to put it out upon land security,till he could light upon an estate in his own country."

It might be expected, that upon these glimpsesof latent dignity, we should all have begun to lookround us with veneration; and have behaved like theprinces of romance, when the enchantment thatdisguises them is dissolved, and they discover thedignity of each other; yet it happened, that none ofthese hints made much impression on the company;every one was apparently suspected of endeavouringto impose false appearances upon the rest; allcontinued their haughtiness in hopes to enforce theirclaims; and all grew every hour more sullen, becausethey found their representations of themselves withouteffect.

Thus we travelled on four days with malevolenceperpetually increasing, and without any endeavourbut to outvie each other in superciliousness andneglect; and when any two of us could separateourselves for a moment we vented our indignation atthe sauciness of the rest.

At length the journey was at an end; and time andchance, that strip off all disguises, have discoveredthat the intimate of lords and dukes is a nobleman'sbutler, who has furnished a shop with the money hehas saved; the man who deals so largely in the funds,is the clerk of a broker in Change-alley; the lady whoso carefully concealed her quality, keeps a cook-shopbehind the Exchange; and the young man who is sohappy in the friendship of the judges, engrossesand transcribes for bread in a garret of the Temple. Of one of the women only I could make nodisadvantageous detection, because she had assumed nocharacter, but accommodated herself to the scenebefore her, without any struggle for distinction orsuperiority.

I could not forbear to reflect on the folly ofpractising a fraud, which, as the event showed, had beenalready practised too often to succeed, and by thesuccess of which no advantage could have beenobtained; of assuming a character, which was to endwith the day; and of claiming upon false pretenceshonours which must perish with the breath that paidthem.

But, Mr. Adventurer, let not those who laugh atme and my companions, think this folly confined toa stage-coach. Every man in the journey of life takesthe same advantage of the ignorance of his fellowtravellers, disguises himself in counterfeited merit,and hears those praises with complacency which hisconscience reproaches him for accepting. Every mandeceives himself while he thinks he is deceivingothers; and forgets that the time is at hand whenevery illusion shall cease, when fictitious excellenceshall be torn away, and ALL must be shown to ALL intheir real state.

The youth, who hopes th' Olympic prize to gain, All arts must try, and every toil sustain. FRANCIS.

IT is observed by Bacon, that "reading makes afull man, conversation a ready man, and writingan exact man."

As Bacon attained to degrees of knowledgescarcely ever reached by any other man, the directionswhich he gives for study have certainly a justclaim to our regard; for who can teach an art withso great authority, as he that has practised it withundisputed success?

Under the protection of so great a name, I shall,therefore, venture to inculcate to my ingeniouscontemporaries, the necessity of reading, the fitness ofconsulting other understandings than their own, andof considering the sentiments and opinions of thosewho, however neglected in the present age, had intheir own times, and many of them a long timeafterwards, such reputation for knowledge and acutenessas will scarcely ever be attained by those thatdespise them.

An opinion has of late been, I know not how,propagated among us, that libraries are filled onlywith useless lumber; that men of parts stand in needof no assistance; and that to spend life in poring uponbooks, is only to imbibe prejudices, to obstruct andembarrass the powers of nature, to cultivate memoryat the expense of judgment, and to bury reasonunder a chaos of indigested learning.

Such is the talk of many who think themselveswise, and of some who are thought wise by others;of whom part probably believe their own tenets, andpart may be justly suspected of endeavouring toshelter their ignorance in multitudes, and of wishing todestroy that reputation which they have no hopesto share. It will, I believe, be found invariably true,that learning was never decried by any learned man;and what credit can be given to those who ventureto condemn that which they do not know?

If reason has the power ascribed to it by itsadvocates, if so much is to be discovered by attentionand meditation, it is hard to believe, that so manymillions, equally participating of the bounties ofnature with ourselves, have been for ages upon agesmeditating in vain: if the wits of the present timeexpect the regard of posterity, which will theninherit the reason which is now thought superior toinstruction, surely they may allow themselves to beinstructed by the reason of former generations. When, therefore, an author declares, that he hasbeen able to learn nothing from the writings of hispredecessors, and such a declaration has been latelymade, nothing but a degree of arrogance unpardonablein the greatest human understanding, canhinder him from perceiving that he is raisingprejudices against his own performance; for with whathopes of success can he attempt that in whichgreater abilities have hitherto miscarried? or withwhat peculiar force does he suppose himself invigorated,that difficulties hitherto invincible should giveway before him?

Of those whom Providence has qualified to makeany additions to human knowledge, the number isextremely small; and what can be added by eachsingle mind, even of this superior class, is verylittle: the greatest part of mankind must owe alltheir knowledge, and all must owe far the largerpart of it, to the information of others. To understandthe works of celebrated authors, to comprehendtheir systems, and retain their reasonings, is atask more than equal to common intellects; andhe is by no means to be accounted useless or idle,who has stored his mind with acquired knowledge,and can detail it occasionally to others who haveless leisure or weaker abilities.

Persius has justly observed, that knowledge isnothing to him who is not known by others topossess it[k]: to the scholar himself it is nothingwith respect either to honor or advantage, for theworld cannot reward those qualities which areconcealed from it; with respect to others it is nothing,because it affords no help to ignorance or errour.

[k] Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter. Sat. i. 27.

It is with justice, therefore, that in anaccomplished character, Horace unites just sentimentswith the power of expressing them; and he thathas once accumulated learning, is next to consider,how he shall most widely diffuse and most agreeablyimpart it.

A ready man is made by conversation. He thatburies himself among his manuscripts, "besprent,"as Pope expresses it, "with learned dust," andwears out his days and nights in perpetual researchand solitary meditation, is too apt to lose in hiselocution what he adds to his wisdom; and whenhe comes into the world, to appear overloaded withhis own notions, like a man armed with weaponswhich he cannot wield. He has no facility ofinculcating his speculations, of adapting himself to thevarious degrees of intellect which the accidents ofconversation will present; but will talk to mostunintelligibly, and to all unpleasantly.

I was once present at the lectures of a profoundphilosopher, a man really skilled in the sciencewhich he professed, who having occasion to explainthe terms opacum and pellucidum, told us, aftersome hesitation, that opacum was, as one mightsay, opake, and that pellucidum signified pellucid. Such was the dexterity with which this learnedreader facilitated to his auditors the intricacies ofscience; and so true is it, that a man may know whathe cannot teach.

Boerhaave complains, that the writers who havetreated of chymistry before him, are useless to thegreater part of students, because they presupposetheir readers to have such degrees of skill as are notoften to be found. Into the same errour are all menapt to fall, who have familiarized any subject tothemselves in solitude: they discourse, as if theythought every other man had been employed in thesame inquiries; and expect that short hints andobscure allusions will produce in others the same trainof ideas which they excite in themselves.

Nor is this the only inconvenience which the manof study suffers from a recluse life. When he meetswith an opinion that pleases him, he catches it upwith eagerness; looks only after such arguments astend to his confirmation; or spares himself thetrouble of discussion, and adopts it with very littleproof; indulges it long without suspicion, and intime unites it to the general body of his knowledge,and treasures it up among incontestable truths:but when he comes into the world among men who,arguing upon dissimilar principles, have been led todifferent conclusions, and being placed in varioussituations, view the same object on many sides; hefinds his darling position attacked, and himself inno condition to defend it: having thought alwaysin one train, he is in the state of a man who havingfenced always with the same master, is perplexedand amazed by a new posture of his antagonist; heis entangled in unexpected difficulties, he is harassedby sudden objections, he is unprovided with solutionsor replies; his surprise impedes his naturalpowers of reasoning, his thoughts are scattered andconfounded, and he gratifies the pride of airypetulance with an easy victory.

It is difficult to imagine, with what obstinacytruths which one mind perceives almost by intuition,will be rejected by another; and how manyartifices must be practised, to procure admission forthe most evident propositions into understandingsfrighted by their novelty, or hardened against themby accidental prejudice; it can scarcely be conceived,how frequently, in these extemporaneous controversies,the dull will be subtle, and the acute absurd;how often stupidity will elude the force ofargument, by involving itself in its own gloom; andmistaken ingenuity will weave artful fallacies, whichreason can scarcely find means to disentangle.

In these encounters the learning of the recluseusually fails him: nothing but long habit and frequentexperiments can confer the power of changinga position into various forms, presenting it indifferent points of view, connecting it with knownand granted truths, fortifying it with intelligiblearguments, and illustrating it by apt similitudes;and he, therefore, that has collected his knowledgein solitude, must learn its application by mixingwith mankind.But while the various opportunities of conversationinvite us to try every mode of argument, andevery art of recommending our sentiments, we arefrequently betrayed to the use of such as are not inthemselves strictly defensible: a man heated in talk,and eager of victory, takes advantage of the mistakesor ignorance of his adversary, lays hold ofconcessions to which he knows he has no right, andurges proofs likely to prevail on his opponent, thoughhe knows himself that they have no force: thus theseverity of reason is relaxed, many topicks areaccumulated, but without just arrangement ordistinction; we learn to satisfy ourselves with suchratiocination as silences others; and seldom recall toa close examination, that discourse which has gratifiedour vanity with victory and applause.

Some caution, therefore, must be used lestcopiousness and facility be made less valuable by inaccuracyand confusion. To fix the thoughts by writing, andsubject them to frequent examinations and reviews,is the best method of enabling the mind to detect itsown sophisms, and keep it on guard against thefallacies which it practises on others: in conversation wenaturally diffuse our thoughts, and in writing wecontract them; method is the excellence of writing,and unconstraint the grace of conversation.

To read, write, and converse in due proportions,is, therefore, the business of a man of letters. Forall these there is not often equal opportunity;excellence, therefore, is not often attainable; and mostmen fail in one or other of the ends proposed, andare full without readiness, or without exactness. Some deficiency must be forgiven all, because allare men; and more must be allowed to pass uncensuredin the greater part of the world, because nonecan confer upon himself abilities, and few have thechoice of situations proper for the improvement ofthose which nature has bestowed: it is, however,reasonable to have PERFECTION in our eye; that we mayalways advance towards it, though we know it nevercan be reached.

No. 92. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1753

Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti.

HOR. Lib. ii. Ep. ii. 110.

Bold be the critick, zealous to his trust, Like the firm judge inexorably just.

TO THE ADVENTURER.SIR,

IN the papers of criticism which you have given tothe publick, I have remarked a spirit of candourand love of truth equally remote from bigotry andcaptiousness; a just distribution of praise amongstthe ancients and the moderns: a sober deference toreputation long established, without a blind adorationof antiquity; and a willingness to favour laterperformances, without a light or puerile fondnessfor novelty.

I shall, therefore, venture to lay before you, suchobservations as have risen to my mind in theconsideration of Virgil's pastorals, without any inquiryhow far my sentiments deviate from established rulesor common opinions.

If we survey the ten pastorals in a general view,it will be found that Virgil can derive from themvery little claim to the praise of an inventor. Tosearch into the antiquity of this kind of poetry isnot my present purpose; that it has long subsisted inthe east, the Sacred Writings sufficiently inform us;and we may conjecture, with great probability, thatit was sometimes the devotion, and sometimes theentertainment of the first generations of mankind. Theocritus united elegance with simplicity; andtaught his shepherds to sing with so much ease andharmony, that his countrymen, despairing to excel,forbore to imitate him; and the Greeks, howevervain or ambitious, left him in quiet possession of thegarlands which the wood-nymphs had bestowedupon him.

Virgil, however, taking advantage of anotherlanguage, ventured to copy or to rival the Sicilian bard:he has written with greater splendour of diction, andelevation of sentiment: but as the magnificence ofhis performances was more, the simplicity was less;and, perhaps, where he excels Theocritus, he sometimesobtains his superiority by deviating from thepastoral character, and performing what Theocritusnever attempted.

Yet, though I would willingly pay to Theocritusthe honour which is always due to an original author,I am far from intending to depreciate Virgil: ofwhom Horace justly declares, that the rural museshave appropriated to him their elegance and sweetness,and who, as he copied Theocritus in his design,has resembled him likewise in his success; for,if we except Calphurnius, an obscure author of thelower ages, I know not that a single pastoral waswritten after him by any poet, till the revival ofliterature.

But though his general merit has been universallyacknowledged, I am far from thinking all theproductions of his rural Thalia equally excellent; thereis, indeed, in all his pastorals a strain of versificationwhich it is vain to seek in any other poet; but if weexcept the first and the tenth, they seem liable eitherwholly or in part to considerable objections.

The second, though we should forget the greatcharge against it, which I am afraid can never berefuted, might, I think, have perished, without anydiminution of the praise of its author; for I knownot that it contains one affecting sentiment or pleasingdescription, or one passage that strikes theimagination or awakens the passions.

The third contains a contest between twoshepherds, begun with a quarrel of which some particularsmight well be spared, carried on with sprightlinessand elegance, and terminated at last in a reconciliation:but, surely, whether the invectives with whichthey attack each other be true or false, they are toomuch degraded from the dignity of pastoral innocence;and instead of rejoicing that they are bothvictorious, I should not have grieved could theyhave been both defeated.

The poem to Pollio is, indeed, of another kind:it is filled with images at once splendid and pleasing,and is elevated with grandeur of languageworthy of the first of Roman poets; but I am notable to reconcile myself to the disproportion betweenthe performance and the occasion that produced it:that the golden age should return because Polliohad a son, appears so wild a fiction, that I am readyto suspect the poet of having written, for someother purpose, what he took this opportunity ofproducing to the publick.

The fifth contains a celebration of Daphnis, whichhas stood to all succeeding ages as the model ofpastoral elegies. To deny praise to a performancewhich so many thousands have laboured to imitate,would be to judge with too little deference for theopinion of mankind: yet whoever shall read it withimpartiality, will find that most of the images are ofthe mythological kind, and therefore easily invented;and that there are few sentiments of rational praiseor natural lamentation.

In the Silenus he again rises to the dignity ofphilosophick sentiments, and heroick poetry. Theaddress to Varus is eminently beautiful: but sincethe compliment paid to Gallus fixes the transactionto his own time, the fiction of Silenus seemsinjudicious: nor has any sufficient reason yet been found,to justify his choice of those fables that make thesubject of the song.

The seventh exhibits another contest of the tunefulshepherds: and, surely, it is not without somereproach to his inventive power, that of tenpastorals Virgil has written two upon the same plan. One of the shepherds now gains an acknowledgedvictory, but without any apparent superiority, andthe reader, when he sees the prize adjudged, is notable to discover how it was deserved.

Of the eighth pastoral, so little is properly thework of Virgil, that he has no claim to other praiseor blame than that of a translator.

Of the ninth, it is scarce possible to discover thedesign or tendency; it is said, I know not uponwhat authority, to have been composed from fragmentsof other poems; and except a few lines inwhich the author touches upon his own misfortunes,there is nothing that seems appropriated to any timeor place, or of which any other use can be discoveredthan to fill up the poem.

The first and the tenth pastorals, whatever bedetermined of the rest, are sufficient to place theirauthor above the reach of rivalry. The complaintof Gallus disappointed in his love, is full of suchsentiments as disappointed love naturally produces; hiswishes are wild, his resentment is tender, and hispurposes are inconstant. In the genuine languageof despair, he soothes himself awhile with the pitythat shall be paid him after his death.

Discontented with his present condition, anddesirous to be any thing but what he is, he wisheshimself one of the shepherds. He then catches theidea of rural tranquillity; but soon discovers howmuch happier he should be in these happy regions,with Lycoris at his side:

He then turns his thoughts on every side, in questof something that may solace or amuse him: he proposeshappiness to himself, first in one scene andthen in another: and at last finds that nothing willsatisfy:

But now again no more the woodland maids, Nor pastoral songs delight--Farewell, ye shades-- No toils of ours the cruel god can change, Tho' lost in frozen deserts we should range; Tho' we should drink where chilling Hebrus flows, Endure bleak winter blasts, and Thracian snows: Or on hot India's plains our flocks should feed, Where the parch'd elm declines his sickening head, Beneath fierce-glowing Cancer's fiery beams, Far from cool breezes and refreshing streams. Love over all maintains resistless sway, And let us love's all-conquering power obey. WARTON.

But notwithstanding the excellence of the tenthpastoral, I cannot forbear to give the preference tothe first, which is equally natural and more diversified. The complaint of the shepherd, who saw his oldcompanion at ease in the shade, while himself wasdriving his little flock he knew not whither, is suchas, with variation of circumstances, misery alwaysutters at the sight of prosperity:

And lo! sad partner of the general care. Weary and faint I drive my goats afar! While scarcely this my leading hand sustains, Tired with the way, and recent from her pains; For 'mid yon tangled hazels as we past, On the bare flints her hapless twin she cast, The hopes and promise of my ruin'd fold! WARTON.

The description of Virgil's happiness in his littlefarm, combines almost all the images of rural pleasure;and he, therefore, that can read it with indifference,has no sense of pastoral poetry:

It may be observed, that these two poems wereproduced by events that really happened; and may,therefore, be of use to prove, that we can always feelmore than we can imagine, and that the most artfulfiction must give way to truth.

I am, Sir, Your humble servant,

DUBIUS.

No. 95. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1753

----Dulcique animos novitate tenebo. OVID. Met. iv. 284.

And with sweet novelty your soul detain.

IT is often charged upon writers, that with all theirpretensions to genius and discoveries, they do littlemore than copy one another; and that compositionsobtruded upon the world with the pomp of novelty,contain only tedious repetitions of common sentiments,or at best exhibit a transposition of knownimages, and give a new appearance of truth only bysome slight difference of dress and decoration.

The allegation of resemblance between authors isindisputably true; but the charge of plagiarism,which is raised upon it, is not to be allowed withequal readiness. A coincidence of sentiment mayeasily happen without any communication, sincethere are many occasions in which all reasonable menwill nearly think alike. Writers of all ages have hadthe same sentiments, because they have in all ageshad the same objects of speculation; the interests andpassions, the virtues and vices of mankind, have beendiversified in different times, only by unessential andcasual varieties: and we must, therefore, expect inthe works of all those who attempt to describe them,such a likeness as we find in the pictures of the sameperson drawn in different periods of his life.

It is necessary, therefore, that before an author becharged with plagiarism, one of the most reproachful,though, perhaps, not the most atrocious of literarycrimes, the subject on which he treats should be carefully considered. We do not wonder, thathistorians, relating the same facts, agree in theirnarration; or that authors, delivering the elements ofscience, advance the same theorems, and lay downthe same definitions: yet it is not wholly withoutuse to mankind, that books are multiplied, and thatdifferent authors lay out their labours on the samesubject; for there will always be some reason whyone should on particular occasions, or to particularpersons, be preferable to another; some will be clearwhere others are obscure, some will please by theirstyle and others by their method, some by theirembellishments and others by their simplicity, some bycloseness and others by diffusion.

The same indulgence is to be shown to the writersof morality: right and wrong are immutable; andthose, therefore, who teach us to distinguish them, ifthey all teach us right, must agree with one another. The relations of social life, and the duties resultingfrom them, must be the same at all times and in allnations: some petty differences may be, indeed,produced, by forms of government or arbitrary customs;but the general doctrine can receive no alteration.

Yet it is not to be desired, that morality should beconsidered as interdicted to all future writers: menwill always be tempted to deviate from their duty,and will, therefore, always want a monitor to recallthem; and a new book often seizes the attention ofthe publick, without any other claim than that it isnew. There is likewise in composition, as in otherthings, a perpetual vicissitude of fashion; and truthis recommended at one time to regard, byappearances which at another would expose it to neglect;the author, therefore, who has judgment to discernthe taste of his contemporaries, and skill to gratifyit, will have always an opportunity to deserve wellof mankind, by conveying instruction to them in agrateful vehicle.

There are likewise many modes of composition,by which a moralist may deserve the name of anoriginal writer: he may familiarize his system bydialogues after the manner of the ancients, or subtilizeit into a series of syllogistick arguments: he mayenforce his doctrine by seriousness and solemnity,or enliven it by sprightliness and gaiety: he maydeliver his sentiments in naked precepts, or illustratethem by historical examples: he may detain thestudious by the artful concatenation of a continueddiscourse, or relieve the busy by short strictures, andunconnected essays.

To excel in any of these forms of writing willrequire a particular cultivation of the genius: whoevercan attain to excellence, will be certain to engagea set of readers, whom no other method would haveequally allured; and he that communicates truthwith success, must be numbered among the firstbenefactors to mankind.

The same observation may be extended likewiseto the passions: their influence is uniform, and theireffects nearly the same in every human breast: a manloves and hates, desires and avoids, exactly like hisneighbour; resentment and ambition, avarice andindolence, discover themselves by the same symptomsin minds distant a thousand years from one another.

Nothing, therefore, can be more unjust, than tocharge an author with plagiarism, merely because heassigns to every cause its natural effect; and makeshis personages act, as others in like circumstanceshave always done. There are conceptions in whichall men will agree, though each derives them fromhis own observation: whoever has been in love, willrepresent a lover impatient of every idea thatinterrupts his meditations on his mistress, retiring toshades and solitude, that he may muse withoutdisturbance on his approaching happiness, or associatinghimself with some friend that flatters his passion,and talking away the hours of absence upon his darlingsubject. Whoever has been so unhappy as to havefelt the miseries of long-continued hatred, will,without any assistance from ancient volumes, be able torelate how the passions are kept in perpetual agitation,by the recollection of injury and meditations ofrevenge; how the blood boils at the name of the enemy,and life is worn away in contrivances of mischief.Every other passion is alike simple and limited,if it be considered only with regard to the breastwhich it inhabits; the anatomy of the mind, as thatof the body, must perpetually exhibit the sameappearances; and though by the continued industryof successive inquirers, new movements will be fromtime to time discovered, they can affect only theminuter parts, and are commonly of more curiositythan importance.

It will now be natural to inquire, by what arts arethe writers of the present and future ages to attractthe notice and favour of mankind. They are toobserve the alterations which time is always makingin the modes of life, that they may gratify everygeneration with a picture of themselves. Thus loveis uniform, but courtship is perpetually varying: thedifferent arts of gallantry, which beauty has inspired,would of themselves be sufficient to fill a volume;sometimes balls and serenades, sometimes tournamentsand adventures, have been employed to meltthe hearts of ladies, who in another century havebeen sensible of scarce any other merit than that ofriches, and listened only to jointures and pin-money. Thus the ambitious man has at all times been eagerof wealth and power; but these hopes have beengratified in some countries by supplicating the people,and in others by flattering the prince: honourin some states has been only the reward of militaryachievements, in others it has been gained by noisyturbulence and popular clamours. Avarice has worna different form, as she actuated the usurer of Rome,and the stock-jobber of England; and idleness itself,how little soever inclined to the trouble of invention,has been forced from time to time to change itsamusements, and contrive different methods of wearingout the day.

Here then is the fund, from which those who studymankind may fill their compositions with aninexhaustible variety of images and allusions: and hemust be confessed to look with little attention uponscenes thus perpetually changing, who cannot catchsome of the figures before they are made vulgar byreiterated descriptions.

It has been discovered by Sir Isaac Newton, thatthe distinct and primogenial colours are only seven;but every eye can witness, that from various mixtures,in various proportions, infinite diversificationsof tints may be produced. In like manner, thepassions of the mind, which put the world in motion,and produce all the bustle and eagerness of the busycrowds that swarm upon the earth; the passions, fromwhence arise all the pleasures and pains that we seeand hear of, if we analyze the mind of man, are veryfew; but those few agitated and combined, as externalcauses shall happen to operate, and modified byprevailing opinions and accidental caprices, makesuch frequent alterations on the surface of life, thatthe show, while we are busied in delineating it,vanishes from the view, and a new set of objects succeed,doomed to the same shortness of duration with theformer: thus curiosity may always find employment,and the busy part of mankind will furnish thecontemplative with the materials of speculation to theend of time.

The complaint, therefore, that all topicks arepreoccupied, is nothing more than the murmur ofignorance or idleness, by which some discourage others,and some themselves; the mutability of mankindwill always furnish writers with new images, and theluxuriance of fancy may always embellish them withnew decorations.

No. 99. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1753

----Magnis tamen excidit ausis. OVID. Met. Lib. ii. 328.

But in the glorious enterprise he died. ADDISON.

IT has always been the practice of mankind, tojudge of actions by the event. The same attempts,conducted in the same manner, but terminated bydifferent success, produce different judgments: theywho attain their wishes, never want celebrators oftheir wisdom and their virtue; and they thatmiscarry, are quickly discovered to have been defectivenot only in mental but in moral qualities. The worldwill never be long without some good reason to hatethe unhappy; their real faults are immediatelydetected; and if those are not sufficient to sink theminto infamy, an additional weight of calumny will besuperadded: he that fails in his endeavours afterwealth or power, will not long retain either honestyor courage.

This species of injustice has so long prevailed inuniversal practice, that it seems likewise to haveinfected speculation: so few minds are able to separatethe ideas of greatness and prosperity, that even SirWilliam Temple has determined, "that he who candeserve the name of a hero, must not only be virtuousbut fortunate."

By this unreasonable distribution of praise andblame, none have suffered oftener than projectors,whose rapidity of imagination and vastness of designraise such envy in their fellow mortals, that everyeye watches for their fall, and every heart exults attheir distresses: yet even a projector may gain favourby success; and the tongue that was prepared tohiss, then endeavours to excel others in loudness ofapplause.

When Coriolanus, in Shakespeare, deserted toAufidius, the Volscian servants at first insulted him,even while he stood under the protection of thehousehold gods: but when they saw that the projecttook effect, and the stranger was seated at the headof the table, one of them very judiciously observes,"that he always thought there was more in himthan he could think."

Machiavel has justly animadverted on thedifferent notice taken by all succeeding times, of the twogreat projectors, Cataline and Caesar. Both formedthe same project, and intended to raise themselvesto power, by subverting the commonwealth: theypursued their design, perhaps, with equal abilities,and with equal virtue; but Cataline perished in thefield, and Caesar returned from Pharsalia withunlimited authority: and from that time, everymonarch of the earth has thought himself honoured bya comparison with Caesar; and Cataline has beennever mentioned, but that his name might beapplied to traitors and incendiaries.

In an age more remote, Xerxes projected theconquest of Greece, and brought down the powerof Asia against it: but after the world had beenfilled with expectation and terrour, his army wasbeaten, his fleet was destroyed, and Xerxes has beennever mentioned without contempt.

A few years afterwards, Greece likewise had herturn of giving birth to a projector; who invadingAsia with a small army, went forward in search ofadventures, and by his escape from one danger,gained only more rashness to rush into another: hestormed city after city, over-ran kingdom afterkingdom, fought battles only for barren victory,and invaded nations only that he might make hisway through them to new invasions: but havingbeen fortunate in the execution of his projects, hedied with the name of Alexander the Great.

These are, indeed, events of ancient times; buthuman nature is always the same, and every agewill afford us instances of publick censures influencedby events. The great business of the middlecenturies, was the holy war; which undoubtedlywas a noble project, and was for a long timeprosecuted with a spirit equal to that with which it hadbeen contrived; but the ardour of the Europeanheroes only hurried them to destruction; for a longtime they could not gain the territories for whichthey fought, and, when at last gained, they couldnot keep them: their expeditions, therefore, havebeen the scoff of idleness and ignorance, theirunderstanding and their virtue have been equallyvilified, their conduct has been ridiculed, and their causehas been defamed.

When Columbus had engaged king Ferdinand inthe discovery of the other hemisphere, the sailors,with whom he embarked in the expedition, had solittle confidence in their commander, that after havingbeen long at sea looking for coasts which theyexpected never to find, they raised a general mutiny,and demanded to return. He found means to sooththem into a permission to continue the same coursethree days longer, and on the evening of the thirdday descried land. Had the impatience of his crewdenied him a few hours of the time requested, whathad been his fate but to have come back with theinfamy of a vain projector, who had betrayed theking's credulity to useless expenses, and risked hislife in seeking countries that had no existence? howwould those that had rejected his proposals havetriumphed in their acuteness! and when would hisname have been mentioned, but with the makers ofpotable gold and malleable glass?

The last royal projectors with whom the worldhas been troubled, were Charles of Sweden and theCzar of Muscovy. Charles, if any judgment may beformed of his designs by his measures and hisinquiries, had purposed first to dethrone the Czar,then to lead his army through pathless deserts intoChina, thence to make his way by the sword throughthe whole circuit of Asia, and by the conquest ofTurkey to unite Sweden with his new dominions:but this mighty project was crushed at Pultowa;and Charles has since been considered as a madmanby those powers, who sent their ambassadors tosolicit his friendship, and their generals "to learnunder him the art of war."

The Czar found employment sufficient in his owndominions, and amused himself in digging canals,and building cities: murdering his subjects withinsufferable fatigues, and transplanting nations fromone corner of his dominions to another, withoutregretting the thousands that perished on theway: but he attained his end, he made his peopleformidable, and is numbered by fame among thedemigods.

I am far from intending to vindicate the sanguinaryprojects of heroes and conquerors, and wouldwish rather to diminish the reputation of theirsuccess, than the infamy of their miscarriages: for Icannot conceive, why he that has burned cities, wastednations, and filled the world with horrour anddesolation, should be more kindly regarded by mankind,than he that died in the rudiments of wickedness;why he that accomplished mischief should be glorious,and he that only endeavoured it should be criminal. I would wish Caesar and Catiline, Xerxes andAlexander, Charles and Peter, huddled together inobscurity or detestation.

But there is another species of projectors, to whomI would willingly conciliate mankind; whose endsare generally laudable, and whose labours areinnocent; who are searching out new powers of nature,or contriving new works of art; but who are yetpersecuted with incessant obloquy, and whom theuniversal contempt with which they are treated,often debars from that success which their industrywould obtain, if it were permitted to act withoutopposition.

They who find themselves inclined to censurenew undertakings, only because they are new, shouldconsider, that the folly of projection is very seldomthe folly of a fool; it is commonly the ebullitionof a capacious mind, crowded with variety ofknowledge, and heated with intenseness of thought;it proceeds often from the consciousness of uncommonpowers, from the confidence of those, who havingalready done much, are easily persuaded that theycan do more. When Rowley had completed the orrery,he attempted the perpetual motion; when Boylehad exhausted the secrets of vulgar chymistry, heturned his thoughts to the work of transmutation[l].

[l] Sir Richard Steele was infatuated with notions ofAlchemy, and wasted money in its visionary projects. He had alaboratory at Poplar. Addisoniana, vol. i. p. 10.

The readers of Washington Irving's Brace-Bridge Hall willrecollect a pleasing and popular exposition of the alternatelysplendid and benevolent, and always passionate reveries of theAlchemist, in the affecting story of the Student of Salamanca.

A projector generally unites those qualities whichhave the fairest claim to veneration, extent ofknowledge and greatness of design: it was said of Catiline,"immoderata, incredibilia, nimis alta semper cupiebat." Projectors of all kinds agree in their intellects,though they differ in their morals; they all fail byattempting things beyond their power, by despisingvulgar attainments, and aspiring to performances towhich, perhaps, nature has not proportioned theforce of man: when they fail, therefore, they fail notby idleness or timidity, but by rash adventure andfruitless diligence.

That the attempts of such men will oftenmiscarry, we may reasonably expect; yet from suchmen, and such only, are we to hope for the cultivationof those parts of nature which lie yet waste, andthe invention of those arts which are yet wantingto the felicity of life. If they are, therefore,universally discouraged, art and discovery can make noadvances. Whatever is attempted without previouscertainty of success, may be considered as a project,and amongst narrow minds may, therefore, exposeits author to censure and contempt; and if the libertyof laughing be once indulged, every man will laughat what he does not understand, every project will beconsidered as madness, and every great or newdesign will be censured as a project. Men unaccustomedto reason and researches, think every enterpriseimpracticable, which is extended beyondcommon effects, or comprises many intermediateoperations. Many that presume to laugh atprojectors, would consider a flight through the air in awinged chariot, and the movement of a mightyengine by the steam of water as equally the dreams ofmechanick lunacy; and would hear, with equalnegligence, of the union of the Thames and Severn bya canal, and the scheme of Albuquerque, theviceroy of the Indies, who in the rage of hostility hadcontrived to make Egypt a barren desert, by turningthe Nile into the Red Sea.

Those who have attempted much, have seldomfailed to perform more than those who never deviatefrom the common roads of action: many valuablepreparations of chymistry are supposed to have risenfrom unsuccessful inquiries after the grand elixir: itis, therefore, just to encourage those who endeavourto enlarge the power of art, since they often succeedbeyond expectation; and when they fail, may sometimesbenefit the world even by their miscarriages.

What in the conduct of our life appears So well design'd, so luckily begun, But when we have our wish, we wish undone. DRYDEN.

TO THE ADVENTURER.

SIR,

I HAVE been for many years a trader in London. My beginning was narrow, and my stock small;I was, therefore, a long time brow-beaten anddespised by those, who, having more money, thoughtthey had more merit than myself. I did not,however, suffer my resentment to instigate me to anymean arts of supplantation, nor my eagerness ofriches to betray me to any indirect methods of gain;I pursued my business with incessant assiduity,supported by the hope of being one day richer thanthose who contemned me; and had, upon everyannual review of my books, the satisfaction offinding my fortune increased beyond my expectation.

In a few years my industry and probity were fullyrecompensed, my wealth was really great, and myreputation for wealth still greater. I had largewarehouses crowded with goods, and considerable sumsin the publick funds; I was caressed upon theExchange by the most eminent merchants; becamethe oracle of the common council; was solicited toengage in all commercial undertakings; was flatteredwith the hopes of becoming in a short time one ofthe directors of a wealthy company, and, tocomplete my mercantile honours, enjoyed the expensivehappiness of fining for sheriff.

Riches, you know, easily produce riches; when Ihad arrived to this degree of wealth, I had no longerany obstruction or opposition to fear; new acquisitionswere hourly brought within my reach, and Icontinued for some years longer to heap thousandsupon thousands.

At last I resolved to complete the circle of acitizen's prosperity by the purchase of an estate inthe country, and to close my life in retirement. From the hour that this design entered myimagination, I found the fatigues of my employmentevery day more oppressive, and persuaded myselfthat I was no longer equal to perpetual attention,and that my health would soon be destroyed bythe torment and distraction of extensive business. I could imagine to myself no happiness, but invacant jollity, and uninterrupted leisure: norentertain my friends with any other topick than thevexation and uncertainty of trade, and the happinessof rural privacy.

But, notwithstanding these declarations, I couldnot at once reconcile myself to the thoughts ofceasing to get money; and though I was every dayinquiring for a purchase, I found some reason forrejecting all that were offered me; and, indeed, hadaccumulated so many beauties and conveniences inmy idea of the spot where I was finally to behappy, that, perhaps, the world might have beentravelled over without discovery of a place whichwould not have been defective in some particular.

Thus I went on, still talking of retirement, andstill refusing to retire; my friends began to laugh atmy delays, and I grew ashamed to trifle longer withmy own inclinations; an estate was at lengthpurchased, I transferred my stock to a prudent youngman who had married my daughter, went down intothe country, and commenced lord of a spaciousmanor.

Here for some time I found happiness equal to myexpectation. I reformed the old house according tothe advice of the best architects, I threw down thewalls of the garden, and enclosed it with palisades,planted long avenues of trees, filled a green-housewith exotick plants, dug a new canal, and threw theearth into the old moat.

The fame of these expensive improvements broughtin all the country to see the show. I entertained myvisitors with great liberality, led them round mygardens, showed them my apartments, laid beforethem plans for new decorations, and was gratified bythe wonder of some and the envy of others.

I was envied: but how little can one man judgeof the condition of another! The time was nowcoming, in which affluence and splendour could no longermake me pleased with myself. I had built till theimagination of the architect was exhausted; I hadadded one convenience to another, till I knew notwhat more to wish or to design; I had laid out mygardens, planted my park, and completed my water-works; and what now remained to be done? what,but to look up to turrets, of which when they wereonce raised I had no further use, to range overapartments where time was tarnishing the furniture, tostand by the cascade of which I scarcely nowperceived the sound, and to watch the growth of woodsthat must give their shade to a distant generation.

In this gloomy inactivity, is every day begun andended: the happiness that I have been so longprocuring is now at an end, because it has been procured;I wander from room to room, till I am weary ofmyself; I ride out to a neighbouring hill in the centreof my estate, from whence all my lands lie inprospect round me; I see nothing that I have not seenbefore, and return home disappointed, though I knewthat I had nothing to expect.

In my happy days of business I had beenaccustomed to rise early in the morning; and rememberthe time when I grieved that the night came so soonupon me, and obliged me for a few hours to shut outaffluence and prosperity. I now seldom see the risingsun, but to "tell him," with the fallen angel, "howI hate his beams[m]." I awake from sleep as to languoror imprisonment, and have no employment for thefirst hour but to consider by what art I shall ridmyself of the second. I protract the breakfast as long asI can, because when it is ended I have no call formy attention, till I can with some degree of decencygrow impatient for my dinner. If I could dine all mylife, I should be happy; I eat not because I am hungry,but because I am idle: but, alas! the time quicklycomes when I can eat no longer; and so ill does myconstitution second my inclination, that I cannot bearstrong liquors: seven hours must then be enduredbefore I shall sup; but supper comes at last, the morewelcome as it is in a short time succeeded by sleep.

[m] Johnson was too apt to destroy the KEEPING of characterin his correspondences. A retired trader might desire a littlemore slumber, "a little folding of the hands to sleep;" but thelofty malignity of a fallen spirit sickening at the beams of day,would not be among the feelings of an ordinary mind. Some goodremarks on this point may be seen in Miss Talbot's Letters toMrs. Carter.

Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the happiness, the hopeof which seduced me from the duties and pleasuresof a mercantile life. I shall be told by those who readmy narrative, that there are many means of innocentamusement, and many schemes of useful employment,which I do not appear ever to have known;and that nature and art have provided pleasures, bywhich, without the drudgery of settled business, theactive may be engaged, the solitary soothed, andthe social entertained.These arts, Sir, I have tried. When first I tookpossession of my estate, in conformity to the tasteof my neighbours, I bought guns and nets, filled mykennel with dogs, and my stable with horses: buta little experience showed me, that these instrumentsof rural felicity would afford me few gratifications. I never shot but to miss the mark, and, toconfess the truth, was afraid of the fire of my owngun. I could discover no musick in the cry of thedogs, nor could divest myself of pity for the animalwhose peaceful and inoffensive life was sacrificed toour sport. I was not, indeed, always at leisure toreflect upon her danger; for my horse, who had beenbred to the chase, did not always regard my choiceeither of speed or way, but leaped hedges andditches at his own discretion, and hurried me alongwith the dogs, to the great diversion of my brothersportsmen. His eagerness of pursuit once incitedhim to swim a river; and I had leisure to resolve inthe water, that I would never hazard my life againfor the destruction of a hare.

I then ordered books to be procured, and by thedirection of the vicar had in a few weeks a closetelegantly furnished. You will, perhaps, be surprisedwhen I shall tell you, that when once I had rangedthem according to their sizes, and piled them up inregular gradations, I had received all the pleasurewhich they could give me. I am not able to excitein myself any curiosity after events which have beenlong passed, and in which I can, therefore, have nointerest; I am utterly unconcerned to know whetherTully or Demosthenes excelled in oratory, whetherHannibal lost Italy by his own negligence or thecorruption of his countrymen. I have no skill incontroversial learning, nor can conceive why somany volumes should have been written upon questions,which I have lived so long and so happilywithout understanding. I once resolved to gothrough the volumes relating to the office of justiceof the peace, but found them so crabbed and intricate,that in less than a month I desisted in despair,and resolved to supply my deficiencies by paying acompetent salary to a skilful clerk.

I am naturally inclined to hospitality, and forsome time kept up a constant intercourse of visitswith the neighbouring gentlemen; but though theyare easily brought about me by better wine thanthey can find at any other house, I am not muchrelieved by their conversation; they have no skill incommerce or the stocks, and I have no knowledgeof the history of families or the factions of thecountry; so that when the first civilities are over,they usually talk to one another, and I am left alonein the midst of the company. Though I cannotdrink myself, I am obliged to encourage thecirculation of the glass; their mirth grows moreturbulent and obstreperous; and before their merrimentis at end, I am sick with disgust, and, perhaps,reproached with my sobriety, or by some slyinsinuations insulted as a cit.

Such, Mr. Adventurer, is the life to which I amcondemned by a foolish endeavour to be happy byimitation; such is the happiness to which I pleasedmyself with approaching, and which I consideredas the chief end of my cares and my labours. Itoiled year after year with cheerfulness, inexpectation of the happy hour in which I might be idle:the privilege of idleness is attained, but has notbrought with it the blessing of tranquillity.

I am yours, &c. MERCATOR.

No. 107. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1753

----Sub judice lis est. HOR. De Ar. Poet. 78.

And of their vain disputings find no end. FRANCIS.

IT has been sometimes asked by those who findthe appearance of wisdom more easily attained byquestions than solutions, how it comes to pass, thatthe world is divided by such difference of opinion?and why men, equally reasonable, and equally loversof truth, do not always think in the same manner?

With regard to simple propositions, where theterms are understood, and the whole subject iscomprehended at once, there is such an uniformity ofsentiment among all human beings, that, for manyages, a very numerous set of notions were supposedto be innate, or necessarily co-existent with thefaculty of reason: it being imagined, that universalagreement could proceed only from the invariabledictates of the universal parent.

In questions diffuse and compounded, thissimilarity of determination is no longer to be expected. At our first sally into the intellectual world, we allmarch together along one straight and open road;but as we proceed further, and wider prospects opento our view, every eye fixes upon a different scene;we divide into various paths, and, as we move forward,are still at a greater distance from each other. As a question becomes more complicated andinvolved, and extends to a greater number of relations,disagreement of opinion will always be multiplied;not because we are irrational, but because we arefinite beings, furnished with different kinds of knowledge,exerting different degrees of attention, onediscovering consequences which escape another, nonetaking in the whole concatenation of causes andeffects, and most comprehending but a very small part,each comparing what he observes with a differentcriterion, and each referring it to a different purpose.

Where, then, is the wonder, that they who seeonly a small part should judge erroneously of thewhole? or that they, who see different and dissimilarparts, should judge differently from each other?

Whatever has various respects, must have variousappearances of good and evil, beauty or deformity;thus, the gardener tears up as a weed, the plant whichthe physician gathers as a medicine; and "a general,"says Sir Kenelm Digby, "will look with pleasureover a plain, as a fit place on which the fate ofempires might be decided in battle, which the farmerwill despise as bleak and barren, neither fruitful ofpasturage, nor fit for tillage[n]."

[n] Livy has described the Achaean leader, Philopaemen, asactually so exercising his thoughts whilst he wandered among therocky passes of the Morea, xxxv. 28. In the graphic page of theRoman historian, as in the stanzas of the "Ariosto of the North:" "From shingles grey the lances start, "The bracken bush sends forth the dart, "The rushes and the willow wand "Are bristling into axe and brand."

Lady of the Lake. Canto v. 9.

Two men examining the same question proceedcommonly like the physician and gardener in selectingherbs, or the farmer and hero looking on the plain;they bring minds impressed with different notions,and direct their inquiries to different ends; they